Chapter 617: 596: A Warning

Chapter 617: Chapter 596: A Warning

The financial projection reports sent by Colin and Vera hovered before Allen in the form of three-dimensional charts.

Looking at the steeply rising profit curves, Allen found the sight highly pleasing to the eye. War truly was an efficient commercial catalyst.

He swiped away the report. His gaze turned toward sector D-15 on the Star Map, where a few scattered red markers remained—the designated final stops of this “promotional business campaign.”

Right at that moment, the world before his eyes plunged into sudden darkness. The soft lighting of the bridge, the low hum of the warship’s steady operation, the solid touch of the command chair… all external perceptions were instantly and simultaneously severed.

He didn’t even have time to react before his senses and soul were forcefully dragged out of his Golem body by an invisible power.

A sense of weightlessness swept over him. It was as if the reality beneath his feet had suddenly collapsed, dragging him into an endless, cold, and suffocating Abyss.

“A forced drag in the mental dimension… A high-tier method of the Mind School?” Allen wondered. In that split second, his mind remained calm and rational.

But a moment later, his senses came back online. He was no longer on the bridge of the *Ten Thousand Miles of Sunshine*; instead, he hovered above a bizarre, chaotically churning ocean. Countless twisted Phantoms, shattered memories, and frenzied emotional turbulences shrieked and spiraled around him.

This was the sea of collective subconsciousness. He had been here before.

The last time, when searching for Lina to be his marketing director, he had dived in voluntarily. Right now, he felt like a giant whale forcibly dragged ashore, his entire existence completely exposed.

Here, his consciousness did not manifest as the restrained Star Disc from his previous visit. Instead, it took on its most fundamental form. Silver data streams extended from the void, intertwining to form a vast and loose network, with every node shimmering with faint light. The edges of the network stretched out for thousands of kilometers.

This was Allen’s true main body—the projection of the Allen Network within the mental dimension.

Barely had his consciousness stabilized when the surrounding chaotic ocean began to boil. Countless shadowy, eerie Phantoms, like sharks smelling blood in the water, lunged madly from all directions to tear and bite at the silver network. Agony erupted from the depths of his soul, as if billions of steel needles were simultaneously piercing his brain.

“Hmph,” Allen let out a cold snort.

He did not counterattack, nor did he try to disperse these Phantoms. He knew they were merely the “native creatures” of the subconscious sea—amalgamations of infinite negative emotions that could never be entirely eradicated. His true enemy was the one who had dragged him here.

Engraved in the deepest recesses of his soul, the Mechanical Mind Witchcraft instantly activated to its absolute limit. Even the agonizing pain in his soul was shielded and quarantined like mere data, unable to shake him in the slightest. Immediately after, the massive mesh structure contracted violently, shrinking from its dispersed state spanning thousands of kilometers to condense into a single, high-density, brilliantly radiant silver singularity.

“Return!”

The silver singularity tore through the surrounding space in an instant, following that faint mental link from the material world to forcefully return!

***

[Warning! Commander’s vital signs are abnormal! Mental fluctuations dropping rapidly!]

[Currently under unknown Mind Attack!]

Blaring sirens echoed across the bridge. Visual modules rebooted. Allen opened his eyes; deep within his dark blue pupils, cascading data streams frantically refreshed self-diagnostic reports. Yet, he felt no sense of relief at having escaped danger.

Because, standing opposite his previously empty command seat, a figure had appeared out of nowhere.

It was a Phantom clad in classical black robes, wearing a pure white mask entirely devoid of facial features. It stood there in midair, as if it had been rooted to that spot for ages. No energy fluctuations leaked from it, nor was there even the slightest trace of life. But its mere existence made the atmosphere across the entire bridge feel suffocatingly oppressive.

Allen’s heart sank as he wondered if even the *Ten Thousand Miles of Sunshine*’s Super AT Force Field and Anti-Witchcraft Force Field—defenses capable of withstanding a blow from a Morning Star Wizard—were unable to stop this intruder.

“Remarkable Soul Transformation Technology,” a hoarse, androgynous voice spoke from behind the mask, carrying a hint of approval. “Within my Nightmare Cage, you are the first non-Mind School Wizard to break free so quickly.”

Allen’s mind raced, but he instead casually leaned back into the wide command chair, crossing his long fingers. His face betrayed not the slightest panic of being invaded.

For the intruder to bypass the fleet’s layered defenses, project a stable mental projection directly onto the bridge, and forcibly drag him into the sea of subconsciousness… these were not the methods of an ordinary Morning Star Wizard. However, the fact that the intruder had stopped attacking clearly meant they hadn’t come to kill.

Allen covertly halted his command to mobilize his Guard Golems and calmly stared at the other party. “You barged into my Floating Ship and launched a direct attack on me. This uninvited approach isn’t very polite.”

“Politeness is charity given by the strong to the weak,” the Phantom replied indifferently. “And you, Allen Wesren, haven’t seemed particularly polite to the ’merchants’ of the Gray Channel over the past month.”

Allen raised an eyebrow slightly. “So, you’ve come to stand up for those Star Thieves and Black Wizards?”

“You could say that. Please allow me to introduce myself.” The Phantom bowed slightly. “On behalf of the Dark Star Market, I send my regards to you, Lord Wesren.”

Dark Star Market? What kind of organization was this?

Allen’s brain rapidly searched for any information on this unfamiliar name, though outwardly, he remained completely impassive. An unknown faction, operating across Star Domains, and possessing Advanced Wizard members. This name likely didn’t belong to the public world.

“Your purging operations have triggered an unusual response.” The Phantom’s voice remained flat. “And, of course, they have caused us some… inconvenience.”

A dynamic hologram suddenly unfolded. A prison ship fully loaded with various intelligent beings was being intercepted by a warship—the interceptor was none other than the *Ten Thousand Miles of Sunshine*.

“In the span of a single month, you destroyed eight of our ’cargo transport fleets,’ resulting in some unwarranted fluctuations in our projected profits for this quarter.”

“And?” Allen’s voice turned cold.

“Let it end here. We can overlook everything that has happened.” The Phantom’s tone left no room for negotiation. “We merely wish to conduct our business in peace. We don’t want to see any more unexpected ’market correction’ behaviors.”

“Or else what?”

“Or else,” the Phantom chuckled softly, “the Market’s operations span over a hundred Star Domains. We have countless ways to ensure your business goes bankrupt as well.

“Trust me, you wouldn’t want to experience it.”

A threat. A commercial warning from a massive, unknown faction.

Allen did not answer immediately. His brain ran tens of thousands of deductions per second. He was no hotheaded fool easily blinded by anger. When an unknown enemy displayed power capable of threatening him, it was best not to provoke a conflict lightly.

If he continued his purging operations now, the remaining profits would be minimal. The potential costs, on the other hand, included severed trade routes, deteriorating factional relations, and even a threat to his life. Besides, his strategic objective of purging the Gray Channel to build the reputation of Wesren Heavy Industry had already been over-fulfilled.

After a moment of thought, Allen looked up to meet that pure white mask, a faint smile slowly surfacing on his face.

“I understand.

“Wesren Heavy Industry has no intention of causing any commercial friction with your esteemed organization.

“My operations end here.”

The Phantom seemed satisfied with his tactfulness and gave a slight nod. “A wise decision. We also welcome you to do business with the Dark Star Market at any time.”

“If the need arises, I will consider it. However, I highly dislike the way you just greeted me.” Although Allen yielded, he still buried a cold, hard nail in his words. “I will remember this.”

The Phantom did not respond, only bowing slightly once more. “Then, we look forward to your arrival.”

As soon as it finished speaking, its figure seemed to be swallowed by the darkness, vanishing into thin air. The oppressive weight suffocating the bridge dissipated along with it.

Allen sat quietly in his command chair, maintaining his crossed-fingered posture without speaking for a long time.

“Jarvis.

“Change course.

“Destination, the G-771 Plane. We are returning.”

Orders issued, the massive hull of the *Ten Thousand Miles of Sunshine* carved an arc through deep space. Laden with seized spoils of war, it set off along the route it had come from.

Allen stood before the enormous observation window, staring into the deep darkness beyond the Gray Channel. Stopping today was not an admission of defeat; it was simply sheathing his blade temporarily. When it was drawn next, the targets might not be such small fry anymore.

“The Gray Channel…” Allen muttered under his breath. “The waters are deeper than I thought.”